Chapter 10
The news was about to start.
Spike flipped through the channels until he reached the station offering abc7. It hadn’t started yet. Commercials were still on. Sighing, he flopped on the bed, and scratched his scalp. It burned from the earlier bleaching, but for some reason he wasn’t remorseful about the change. When he looked in the mirror, he saw the idealistic young cop he’d once been. The one who was ready to change the world. The man he was long before life’s hard lessons had worn him down.
Buffy seemed to agree. She hadn’t said anything. She didn’t need to, not with the wistful smile on her face and her fingers running through his platinum curls. His resistance to the girl he once loved was dissolving fast. He knew he couldn’t give in so he’d stepped away from the touch that he was craving with every inch of skin on his body. He burned for that contact, wanting to lean into her hand and lose the few inches between them. Instead, he moved further away. She simply turned to grab her things. It was for the best, he kept telling himself.
When Buffy finally disappeared into the shower, Spike spent a long time staring at Fred’s picture in his wallet. He’d made a promise to her and he wasn’t going to break it. Forcing his attention back to the television, he waited for the news to start.
The door between the bedroom and the bathroom squeaked open. Spike found himself holding his breath as he waited for Buffy. The girl he knew certainly wasn’t the one who finally appeared. He exhaled in a slow whistle at the woman before him. Her hair hung to her shoulders in an uneven brunette bob. This was in no way the girl he’d rescued or taken care of for so long. This was a stranger with a smile that sent chills down his spine and heat into his neglected libido.
Somehow, he tore his gaze from Buffy and back to the television screen. It was hard, watching her from his peripheral vision while trying to follow the news. He relaxed a bit when she settled onto the other bed. Unless he turned his head all he could see was bare legs and pink painted toenails. He bent his left leg, resting his elbow on it, and prayed it appeared casual.
“Anything yet?” Buffy asked.
“No.”
His tone must have been harsher then he intended because Buffy made a sniffing sound and slid under the covers. At least he didn’t have to look at sexier than normal feet. Never before in his life had the sight of toes turned him on so much.
“Not yet.” He said, looking over at her, and wishing they were in a different place and time. A place where he still had the right to crawl into the bed with her.
“I’m scared,” Buffy admitted, meeting his gaze. She played with the hem of the sheet. “I know I shouldn’t be…or maybe I should
be. I don’t know.”
“It’s okay, pet. I’m scared, too. This isn’t the best way to stay safe. Hell, even being in this hotel is enough to scare a person without thinking of Luke and his goons.”
“Are we going to be okay?”
“I’m going to try my best to make sure you come out of this alive and without any spilt blood.”
Buffy turned onto her back to stare at the ceiling. “I’m sorry…about everything, before. I want you to know that, okay?”
“You don’t have to apologize for anything.” His stomach tightened, his hand shook and his cock went soft again. He leaned his head against the wall. “You weren’t mine.”
“Maybe I can’t be with anybody. Charles lasted all of a month.” He heard her rustling. She was staring at him. He could feel it even if he refused to verify
it by looking. “You got engaged before I
could get back to
Spike couldn’t move.
He couldn’t speak. One simple
sentence had just turned his entire world on end. He was
engaged before she got back to
“You seemed to be doing a lot of dating,” he finally croaked. He needed to know if it was true or if she was just throwing around conversation. “Or you were before you moved here. After the break up with that other guy.”
She sighed softly. “I wanted to see if it was me, or Charles, or just you.”
“Excuse me?” He furrowed his brow, gave up the fight as he turned to face her in confusion.
Buffy stared at the ceiling, refusing to look at him. Her cheeks were bright red. “Charles broke up with me.”
“Do you mind not dancing around this anymore? Just spit it out already.”
“I…was having trouble…you know…doing it.”
“Oh, bloody hell, Buffy; I don’t want to hear about you shagging some other bloke. Jesus!”
A pillow came out of nowhere hitting him in the face. Spike batted it away. Buffy was disappearing into the bathroom. The door slammed shut, but the thin walls couldn’t hide the sounds of her crying. He kind of felt like crying himself if he told the truth. It ripped him apart to think about her in Gunn’s arms. He’d met him once before Buffy broke up with him. They were just friends, just study buddies and now she confirmed his worst nightmare. Buffy had sex with the tall good-looking man.
But she said she was
having trouble doing it with him. What
the hell did that mean?
The television broke through his thoughts when the announcer said that a police officer was shot that afternoon. Grateful for a distraction, Spike scooted to the edge of the bed, turning up the volume while he did. There was a segment with a remote reporter at the scene. According to her, there was no arrest or any clue as to why and how it had happened. All a big mystery, but they assured the public that every available person was after the monster who would shoot a cop in broad daylight.
“Did he have family?”
“Yeah, a wife and a kid.” Spike said.
Buffy looked so sad and lost leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded across her middle. “Did you know him?”
“No, but…”
“He’s part of the family, I know.” She ran a toe across the ugly stained yellow carpet. A tear hung from her chin before it fell to her chest. She wiped at her cheeks. “Spike…”
“Don’t, please.”
Without thinking, he went to take her in his arms. She didn’t fight him. She curled against him in the way that only
she could. They fit together. Their
bodies made to be connected. He kissed
her head, nuzzling the softness of her hair.
“No regrets, okay? You were the
best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Same here.”
“We need to get some sleep so we can catch the murdering son of a bitch.”
“Same here.”
Buffy giggled which made him smile. Maybe they could find their way to being friends. After all, they were family. That decision had been made a long time ago when their friends became friends and then family. He released a breath he felt he’d been holding forever. Buffy was a part of him and always would be. It felt good to finally admit it.
~~~~~~
Hardly anyone noticed them.
They were just part of the eclectic crowd filling the streets of
If punks held proms, they would be the king and queen. Buffy’s newly darkened hair was now sporting blood red streaks that matched her lipstick. The short skirt and torn t-shirt looked adorable on her, at least in his opinion, and the magnetic nose ring drew attention away from whoever wanted to look into her eyes.
Personally, he felt like he was back in his rebellious teens with his own punk look. Torn jeans, wife-beater tank that proudly showed off the brilliant fake tattoos on both biceps, and his hair spiked as high as Buffy could get it to go. Where she’d tried to draw attention away from her eyes, his were now ringed in onyx eyeliner that made his own shine bluer than normal.
They were a matched set, and if there weren’t hired killers after them, Spike could have fun with these getups. Unfortunately, time was of the essence, and he tugged on Buffy’s hand as he bounded through the doors of the library.
Spike nodded at the young woman at the front desk as they made a beeline for the computers. Fortunately one was available and Buffy slid in front of it.
“Don’t move,” Spike said, leaning over so only she could hear. “Keep your hair around your face, and I’ll be back.” After she nodded, he kissed her cheek, for appearances sake only he told himself as he headed for the newspapers.
They were both searching for missing men, fifteen to twenty-five, and anything they could find on Luke. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was the only place they could think of to start. He scanned the lounge area, hoping he was acting casual as he picked up a couple of newspapers from the past few days. As he flopped into a chair the woman who was sitting in the next one got up and hurried away. He couldn’t help but smile as he opened the latest paper.
Almost a useless hour went by before Spike gave up in frustration. Although he wanted to fling the papers to the floor in a fit of anger, he knew he was under scrutiny by some of the other patrons. Therefore, fighting his own emotions, he neatly folded them back the way he’d found them before putting them back on the shelf.
Spike hoped Buffy was luckier than he was and had found something that would give them a clue as to where to go next. Sighing, he reached the computer area. He stopped at the entrance to the row where he’d left Buffy. She wasn’t there. His heart stopped in an agonizing lurch of fear. No, it couldn’t happen again. He blinked, forcing himself to focus as he searched the entire area. Still no Buffy.
Time slowed to a crawl as he began to hurry down the long row of shelves. He prayed for her to appear even while he berated himself for letting her out of his sight. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. He stopped at the end when there was no else for him to go.
Why hadn’t she screamed? How could they have recognized her? Why did he leave her? How did they get by him? His worst nightmare was unraveling in his waking hours and he knew he couldn’t wake from this moment. He couldn’t live with himself if something happened to Buffy. He began to run back toward the computer area.
Maybe, somehow, she was there waiting for him. A thousand scenarios rushed through his mind. Every one ending with a prayer that she was all right. A million demons bit and clawed at him for letting her down. He started toward another area of the library when he spotted a lone figure in a darkened office. Stopping, he glanced around to make sure no one was watching his bizarre behavior. Apparently, a punk rushing around the library was old news because no one was watching him now. Or too afraid to look. Whatever the reason, Spike was happy about it as he headed toward the partially closed door.
It was Buffy. Relief washed over him in bucketfuls as he slipped into the room with her, and then anger burned through him with a fire to rival hell. One name whispered in the dark brought the abrupt change to his mood.
She was talking to her ex.
to be continued…
